


The Boy With The Thorn In His Side

by Sleepymachine



Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepymachine/pseuds/Sleepymachine
Summary: series of short stories/drabbles about my oc Casey Lamont





	1. Bad Kids

**Author's Note:**

> chp 1 tw: mentions of death?

The sky is starting to get dark around the edges, the bright oranges and purples fading into black. The town below is already dark-the street lamps like stars in a dark sky. 

The car sits at the top of the hill, overlooking the town. It's a spot he's always loved. When he was a kid, he'd throw rocks at the cars below, and scream his lungs out to people who couldn't hear. _People who wouldn't hear_. 

Casey sits on the hood, his eyes unfocused and his thoughts somewhere far away. His cigarette is burning out, unsmoked and unnoticed. When the car door shuts behind him, he jumps and mutters a curse, startled.  
The hood dips beneath him with the weight of two people, and from beside him, Carmen clears his throat. They don't exchange words, but the look they give each other is more than enough. 

He can almost still hear the voice on the phone. He can just barely make out what she's saying, until all at once, her words are clear.  
_"Casey, your father is dead."_  
_"Thanks, mom."_  
_"I mean it."_  
_"I know you do."_  
he'd hung up after that, having no more words for her. 

_"Are you gonna be okay?"_ Carmen breaks the silence, _"I mean, of course not, but, are you?"_  
_"I wasn’t okay before that, you know that.”_ Casey shrugs, his eyes drifting upwards to the growing tangle of stars overhead.  
_“I’m sorry about your dad”_  
_“I’m not.”_


	2. Wrecking Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chp 2 tw: mentions of fighting, mentions of vomiting

_Casey doesn't know what time it is, only that the sky overhead is still black._ He doesn't know _where_ he is, either. He remembers driving out past the train tracks, but how far? He looks around slowly, the world around him moving in a blur of colors and shapes. His thoughts buzz in his head, though none of them are very clear to him at the moment.

_He's pretty sure he should go to a hospital._ he's heard in movies and after school specials what concussions can do to people, and it's not like he needs any more issues to deal with.

  
The pavement is cold on his back, still slightly damp from the rain earlier that night. He tries to move, but finds the blooming pain in his side too much- _what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?_ he asks himself. _you could be dead in this alley and nobody would know._

  
He resigns to look up past the buildings on either side of him, to the sky. the night is relatively peaceful, even from the ground in a dirty alley behind a dirty bar, where he just got the hell kicked out of him.

  
He doesn't know how much time passes before he sits up. When he does, a wave of nausea overtakes him. The taste of stomach acid and cheap beer is heavy in his throat when he finally stands up, his body screaming at him to _stay down_. He stumbles out of the alley, into the cold air. it's a pleasant change from the smell of cigarettes and garbage. _though isn't that all you're used to?_ he tells himself _i_ _sn't that where you belong?_

  
He finds his motorcycle outside the bar, miraculously not stolen. _it's the little things that count,_ he notes. _wouldn't do to get beaten up and robbed in one night._   
He walks the bike back to the tracks, and then keeps walking. he walks until he can see the neon lights outside his apartment.   
_one of these days someone's going to kill me_ , Casey thinks to himself as he closes the door behind him, _and i'll probably deserve it too._


End file.
